When I opened my eyes, I was back in Room 405.
But it wasn't the same.
The furniture was arranged differently. The bed pushed against a different wall. The mirror gone.
The photos on the wall were blank. No scratches. No people.
Clean.
Too clean.
I stood slowly. My head throbbed.
A paper sat on the nightstand. A check-in slip.
Guest: [REDACTED]
Room: 405
Stay Duration: Unknown
I didn't remember seeing it before.
I went to the door. It was there again.
I touched the handle. Cold.
Opened it—
The hallway was back.
But it was wrong.
All the doors were marked 405. Every single one.
Some were open. Some closed. Some… cracked, just enough to see an eye staring through.
I shut the door quickly. My breath came ragged.
When I turned around—
The bed had moved.
The photo frames showed new faces now.
One of them was me—but older. Eyes sunken. Mouth stitched shut.
And underneath the frame, in tiny, perfect cursive:
"Checked in: March 12, 2023."
"Checked out: Never."
To be continued…